


Good Show

by ReoPlusOne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bondage and Discipline, Discipline, Figging, Gags, Light BDSM, M/M, Restraints, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReoPlusOne/pseuds/ReoPlusOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred comes to his longtime friend-with-benefits hoping he can learn a little something about BDSM.  Porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Proud.

If there was one word (or one deadly sin, if one wanted to go there) that had always spelled America in the depths of England’s mind, it was that one. Even a person who didn’t know Alfred could see it in him; the sparkle in his eyes, the way he held his head high and grinned (like the sun finally bursting over the hills after a slow rise), and part of Arthur could neither loathe nor envy him for it. He knew it was his own doing. 

It was easy to raise a spoiled child after all – especially when the boy was as downright adorable as America had been — and when he already had half the colonial world also tugging at his sleeve it was easy to shower America in gifts, sneakily give him double the spending allowance of his siblings and pat himself on the back. Yes, he was lazy in those days. Now, he was just tired.

Alfred had made an excuse to come over (“talk about this new spending plan or something,” Arthur hadn’t even stopped flipping through his magazine) and sat fidgeting on his sofa, impolite as he typically was. Arthur knew something was horribly awry when America looked up with a pout and grumbled, “Can I ask you a favor?” Just because nothing good ever came of that phrase Arthur wanted to refuse on the spot. He was a fool for allowing him to continue, and of course — he should have seen it coming — it was a sexual favor. 

They had been sex-without-all-that-relationship-nonsense partners since a wave of drugs hit both of them in the 60s and they had woken up beside one another one morning. Alfred had definitely found it embarrassing but could never deny that Arthur was more experienced (and more aggressive, after a heavy dose of liquid courage) than any of his other options. Arthur reasoned that things with Francis were getting boring anyway and some fresh meat in his bed would be welcome. Besides, the sex had been good and there was no reason to put a stop to a good thing.

Alfred’s sense of pride would always be his undoing: this, Arthur had always known. He never would have thought that Alfred would ask to be taken down a notch.

“It’s just, you know, we make a _lot_ of porn at my house, like, a lot of porn –“

“Mhm.”

“And there are these websites…”

“Websites?” Arthur repeated back with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, and I remember Francis saying that you guys had done something like that?”

“Something like what, exactly?”

Arthur was not nearly dense enough to require a website to show him what BDSM was, but he feigned innocence until they were a few minutes into a full-length video on a page that recognized a certain American as a ‘platinum member’ after he put in his password. Said American had to be a particular shade of red before Arthur would shut his laptop and stand.

“You’re going to get over that blushing habit of yours if you want to do this.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“I suppose. You’ll be terrible though,” Arthur said with perhaps a little too much venom. It didn’t matter, because Alfred’s face lit up with a grin. “Why the hell are you so chipper?”

“I was afraid I was going to have to go see Francis,” Alfred jumped up onto his feet and started wiggling out of his shirt. “Can we start now?”

In no way did Alfred belong to him, but somehow the notion that he would ever go to France for anything irritated Arthur further. Wordlessly and with a frown he led Alfred down into his cellar. They both knew there was no one in the house to hear them, but Alfred was quick to shut the door behind himself anyway.

—

To start with, Alfred wanted to be bound, (or rather he had pointed at one of his ridiculous porn videos and asked like a child ‘can we do that?’) which seemed simple until Arthur remembered the boy’s strength. Things then got a little more complicated.

When the two of them had agreed to keep their routine of relationship-less sex going, Arthur never thought he would have to show Alfred the ropes.

Well, the ropes broke – so to hell with the ropes.

When Arthur resorted to his spell books (his cellar was predominantly for magic practice and only for sex dungeon use on weekends) Alfred could not help but laugh. That was, until the ropes re-tied themselves and stuck that way and he found himself unable to make them budge. The clicking of Arthur’s loafers against the wood floor of his cellar suddenly became a little more menacing, but the cold thrill in his throat turned hot when Arthur glanced up at him.

“What is your safeword?” Arthur mumbled as he sifted through the chest in the corner and pondered its contents one by one. Alfred shifted to see but couldn’t do much but wriggle from his position, wrists crossed and arms high above his head, completely bare except for his underwear and socks.

“Uh, safeword?”

“It can be anything you want it to be.”

“Can I sing ‘the Star Spangled Banner’ and have that be my safesong instead?” Even as Arthur ran his fingers along a riding crop and squeezed his palm around it where Alfred could see, he didn’t seem to get the hint. Non-verbal cues were never America’s strong point. With no reply those first cheeky, infuriating words popped out of his mouth, sung to that same creaky old tune. “Oh, say, can you see?” And faster than he could say ‘by the dawn’s early light’ —

Whap. _Whap!_

Hard against his ass the crop came down. Alfred looked almost startled and swung to face Arthur, gasping a little when he again realized that he was bound. He saw the crop, the sudden swelling in Arthur’s pants that had definitely not been there a moment ago, and the look in his eyes – though he looked more than a little apprehensive, he knew he had made the right choice in coming.

“That’s enough of that. I have plenty of gags, if that is what you need.” The soft tip of the crop ran between America’s nipples and slowed at his adam’s apple, which bobbed as Alfred swallowed. The crop took the place of Arthur’s hand and cupped his chin, barely touching but still keeping Alfred shivering. “Do you need a gag?”

“No, sir.”

Arthur seemed satisfied with that and retreated back to his toy chest. Like he had always thought, pride was Alfred’s worst trait. Though it could give him the courage to rush blindly into battle, it was also like sandpaper between them, always causing friction and pushing them apart. Maybe that was why neither of them ever bothered to make the jump from friends-with-benefits to that other kind of ‘friends’ that he so loathed to think of. Contemplating, he pulled a ball gag from a drawer inside his chest and ran a hand over it. It was a comfortable beginner’s model, shaped more like a pacifier than a ball, and it wouldn’t stretch the corners of America’s mouth. It might have to be his last resort, if Alfred’s cheekiness wouldn’t stop on its own. “What safeword would you like, then?”

“Saratoga?”

Arthur could not grab his crop (and the gag) fast enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: figging.

Somehow he had made the jump from wrenching Alfred’s underwear down around his ankles and swinging his crop again – and again and again, put the shoulder into it or he’ll never _learn_ – to now, where he held the back of Alfred’s head and practically molested his mouth in a kiss. It felt _good_. 

Between the two of them neither ever took enough initiative in the bedroom, and for a pure switch like Arthur, that was frustrating enough. But if Alfred was going to be the one getting tied up, Arthur was going to have to be the one to take command; and that meant dissecting that stupid arrogant smile with his tongue.

Nothing tasted better than knocking Alfred down a few pegs. The stupid amateur even whined as Arthur pulled away and slid the gag across his lips, and, perhaps remembering that he was the one to initiate this mess, Alfred did the right thing and took it. From the chest Arthur retrieved a knife; that was when Alfred began to squirm.

“Oh, shove it. Do you think I’d actually cut you for the sake of a punishment?” Out of his pocket he produced a small ginger root and carefully began to peel it. Alfred made a questioning sound that the gag mostly deflected. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never sold a horse, Alfred. This was the only way to get your money’s worth back in the good old days.” He held the peeled piece of root up in the light and, finding it satisfactory, approached. Alfred shifted and finally turned so that he was facing Arthur, his rear conveniently on the other side. He shook his head and Arthur paused; apparently he had sold a few horses in his time.

“What? Did you think you could get away with singing The Star Spangled Banner in my house? A figging is generous; if you were a child it would be the switch.” Alfred still frowned and Arthur paused, waiting for the three taps that would be Alfred’s safeword whenever his mouth was occupied. When the taps did not come he continued his descent, dragging his nails across the wet inside of the ginger with anticipation tickling the space underneath his fingernails. One hand cupped that sweet, succulent ass, and spread it gently. The other hand only needed one finger to press on the exposed head of the makeshift toy; Alfred’s body did the rest and swallowed it up. The way he squirmed as it started to tingle and then burn was satisfying, and the noises that came from deep inside America’s chest were welcomed as Arthur ran his tongue up and down that delicious throat. He deserved _some_ sort of treat, after all. America’s fever was contagious and Arthur found himself quickly catching it, spreading his own legs just enough to rut against Alfred’s hip. An unhappy sound worked its way out when Arthur’s cock found the happy trail on Alfred’s belly, but that too was kissed up; he would have to deal with it.

But he did deal with it, in a way that was strangely wonderful. Perhaps it was because his centuries-long stint with Francis was getting old; he was so bored with how absolutely patient the man could be, how well he knew Arthur’s ins and outs. Francis could stay in chastity for six months with hardly a complaint and react to his first orgasm in that time as if it was his third that day… but Alfred. Alfred was so new, so eager, pressing back to get the ginger deep inside him even as it burned and he whimpered. He had seen Alfred exhausted and sweaty and smelling of musk and sex plenty of times but never had he ever wanted to grip him, feel that squirming in his palm, like he did then. He removed the ginger and ran a hand over what had to be an incredibly sore ass; Alfred seemed to thank him with a pleased sigh and a curl of the toes.

“Are you alright?”

One tap. Green.

Arthur frowned. “Are you sure?”

Alfred didn’t tap the pipe so much as flick it; and with his strangely supernatural strength that sound echoed, insistent. There was that cheekiness again in his expression ( _What? You think I can’t handle this? This is child’s play_ ), somehow flaring up wordlessly the moment the punishment stopped. Arthur would delight in wiping that look off his face – he should not have volunteered to be the submissive if he was just going to give him attitude.

Alfred shuddered as he realized that the hard warmth against his thighs was in fact Arthur. The cold wet hand that followed was to apply lube, and though he squirmed it was applied quickly enough. 

Arthur was done asking Alfred if he was ready or pleased; he had volunteered. He was Arthur’s, completely his, once more, and as he grabbed a handful of ass and started to slide himself inside, it seemed that Alfred was more than satisfied with the arrangement; he shuddered and bit down on the gag, hard.

“Don’t ruin that,” Arthur jerked inside to the hilt and tugged on the corner of Alfred’s mouth. “It’s old.” Muffled grumbling. Arthur chuckled, let his cock slide out, and slammed back in -- that would teach him not to talk. Short thrusts turned to long thrusts, which turned into Arthur fucking Alfred like he hadn’t fucked anyone in a long time. The gag couldn’t contain even most of the sounds Alfred was making in retaliation.

Arthur approached and then hit a premature orgasm without really meaning to; he spilled himself inside of Alfred, who was thrashing at the sudden lack of attention, and gasped into the back of his shoulders. Pulling out was the hardest part -- the ginger had made Alfred’s body pliable and sensitive so he squeezed out every drop he had to offer -- but it was all worthwhile for the sight.

Alfred, still gagged and still standing on his tiptoes under the pipe, had cum leaking out of his ass and making white trails down his legs. His cock was hard and swung gently as he did, absolutely begging for attention that he knew he might not receive. Completely at Arthur’s mercy he was perfect and scrumptious -- and his whining only got louder as Arthur went to stand in front of him and dropped to his knees. “You still have so much to learn,” He was gentle now, perhaps somewhat tamed by the release of heat from his own belly, but as his kisses grew lower and lower, the movement of Al’s hips ceased for all but the occasional needy twitch. Good boys did deserve treats, of course...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al learns how to dom.

“You’re just being so… nice to me,” Alfred repeated.

“Yes, and I’m beginning to regret it now,” Arthur snapped back and slathered more lotion on Alfred’s behind. “Aftercare. Learn what it is and how to do it, or your future scenes will never be really successful. And God help your future partners.”

“Future _partners_ … ?” Alfred was looking over his shoulder again. The pressure in Arthur’s chest boiled over and he shoved that stupid idiot face back into the pillow.

“Don’t say it like that. Obviously you’re going to have future partners, and you had better know how to help them relax after your scene.”

“Well, yeah -- I guess I just can’t imagine doing this kind of stuff like… with just anybody.”

“ _You_ were the one saying you were going to go to France if I wasn’t up to the task of giving you BDSM 101.”

“Yeah, but --”

“Don’t ‘yeah but’ me!” Into the pillow he went again. “Just shut up and stay where you are or you won’t be getting any more lotion.”

“I only said that stuff to make you mad though,” Alfred mumbled. He got a firm pinch on his whip-marks, just as he deserved.

\--

“I bought some things. I need you to do me another favor.” That was what the text message had said. Arthur had shrugged and gone downstairs to tidy up his basement; he had not expected Alfred to be there so quickly, knocking on his door and holding an armful of… stuff.

“What is all of that…”

“Awesome stuff?” Alfred invaded and dropped his armload right on Arthur’s sofa.

“I was going to say horseshit, but, sure.” Alfred didn’t even have the time to look hurt.

“I got these cuffs, and this collar matches, too --”

“Are those _rabbit ears_?”

“Yeah! Well, not real ones, fake ones. Aren’t they cute? I thought the bow was a nice touch.”

Arthur held them up to examine them; he had been almost hopeful there was an actual rabbit to eat, but now he felt a little sick… “I’m not going to wear these.”

“Not even the tail?”

“That’s a plug.”

“It’s a plug with a cute little bunny tail on the end! It’s soft, see? Feel it.”

Arthur suddenly had an armful of toys. Or… were they strange Halloween-esque costume pieces? Both? “Why would you bring these?”

“Well I wanted to buy you a cute collar, but then when you buy the leash and cuffs, a set of ears and tail come free too. So I got everything.”

For Christ’s sake was that _lace_? On a _collar_? What had the modern world turned bondage into, some sort of freak show? “And this favor you wanted to ask… ?” Please don’t say ‘petplay’, Arthur couldn’t be turned into a rabbit again…

“You’ve been the sub before, right?”

“Yes,” Arthur laid down the bunny ears carefully.

“Can you teach me how to be a good dom? I really want to learn.”

Damn it if Arthur didn’t want to turn him down with an insult and a door in his face, but -- he had never been able to turn Alfred down when he was that earnest, not when he was 50 and not now. It was still solid cause for worry; you had to _trust_ your dominant to put your body in their hands, and who was to say Alfred could be responsible with… anything really? Arthur stormed into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea.

“Look, I’m asking nicely, I really --”

“I never _refused,_ ” Arthur snapped. The silence meant that Alfred was grinning that stupid goofy grin he always grinned when he got his way; he felt it digging into the back of his head and groaned. “I get to run the scene. You’re still learning and there is no chance in _Hell_ that I would let you have complete control. So no gags.”

“No gags?”

“No.”

“But the cuffs… ?”

Arthur could still flip him off in cuffs, so… “Why not.”

\--

“Like this?”

“For the last time, yes.”

“But harder, right?”

“Yes, I can take it.”

“Okay, well, here I go --”

“Stop you idiot!” He heard the sound of America jumping in fright. “You have to get me hard, first. Pain without pleasure is just unpleasant.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” Arthur was on his knees with his legs spread wide. The plug in his ass was heavy with the weight of the wired rabbit tail that he felt flush against his back, fluffy and upright as if he, as a rabbit, was surprised. Alfred had cartoonishly bent one of his new ears down and now it hung at the edge of his vision.

It was from behind that ear that Alfred appeared, also on his knees at Arthur’s side. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just get me hard.” Alfred’s breath on his neck made his hair stand on end. The intensity of the strength he knew was in those fingers was well-hidden with the gentle grip he exerted on Arthur’s soft cock. One stroke, two strokes, he ran a thumb over the head and -- _there we are._

“Are you my good bunny?” Arthur didn’t have to look, he could hear the smile in Alfred’s voice. The look he shot him _should_ have shut him up, but it didn’t. “No, you’ve been a naughty bunny… you -- uh, ate all the carrots in the garden? I don’t know, why am I hitting you?”

“Because I _like_ it, you complete _moron_ ,” Arthur hissed. If he wasn’t hard before, he certainly was then. Alfred stood. A few steps for good distance...

“You need me to adjust your chain length or anything? They look a little short...” He asked, and Arthur shook his head. Get on with it, idiot.

He listened as Alfred took a deep breath, held it, and --

_CRACK!_

Arthur let out a noise like a man stubbing his toe on a nail, something guttural that left his tongue lolling out like a dehydrated dog. He didn’t realize that Alfred had dropped the whip and run to him until he was in his face, panicking and already undoing the chains.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I -- I was going to untie you, because you --”

Arthur frowned at him, all the blood rushing from his boner (may it rest in peace) and into his face. “Did I _say_ lucky? Tell me.”

“No, but I --”

“I did not safeword. Now kindly piss off.”

After a little more fussing, Alfred retook his spot, lifted the whip, and --

_CRACK! CRACK!_

A glob of drool fell from Arthur’s mouth to the floor, though he was careful to keep his noises below a dull roar, lest he spook the _real_ rabbit again. The whip came down and Arthur felt his back beginning to turn pink and then red with long welts, and the reverberating ache from them made him sigh. Somewhere distant, the counting Alfred had been continuing under his breath had finally hit ‘ten’, and he stopped.

“I think that’s enough for the moment,” He breathed, and Arthur trembled as he again took his cock in his hand and stroked; he had almost recoiled when he felt how hard Arthur was from ten lashes alone. With a shudder Arthur rolled his hips into the attention.

“Is that good?” Arthur nodded. “Good,” Alfred smiled and grabbed his shoulder, pressed him onto his hands and then elbows. “Because there’s a lot more where that came from.”


	4. Chapter 4

 “That looks like it hurts,” _Smack_. **  
**

“It does, sir.” _Smack_.

Alfred insisted on _speaking_ during his punishments, and so far it had only been his own notion of 'dirty talk'.  Maybe he needed to come to terms with the idea of punishing him -- but then, he had jumped at the opportunity before Arthur could finish saying ‘discipline’.  Perhaps he was seeking some form of retribution for all the times he had been bent over Arthur’s knee squirming and kicking.  Those times hadn’t been consenting, of course, and not always as absolutely necessary as -- _no_.  Arthur purged those thoughts out of his mind before they sank any deeper.  No way he could stay aroused with the sounds of Alfred’s tears and hiccups in his head, and it was just in time too, because Alfred interrupted his thoughts with a pause in his rhythm.

“How many was that?”

“Uh, I’m - not sure.” Alfred crossed his arms and let Arthur hang over either side of his legs with no contact, disciplinary or otherwise.  For a moment the worst occurred to him; Alfred could back out at any moment, of course, but that would leave him with a boner and a sour taste in his mouth.  And where would that leave _them_?

“You lost count _and_ you forgot to say sir.  You know, I kind of think that’s cause for punishment.  Don’t you?”

There was no time to feel relieved; Arthur could only try his best to retain his dignity and not keen like a needy dog.  It was already so strange to see Alfred realizing that he was the dominant in this situation, but when he did flex those muscles -- _smack_ \-- there couldn’t be anything better.  No opium or absinthe or anything could be worth signing life away more than the stupid idiot spanking him.  It was enough to send Arthur quivering and burying his face into Alfred’s free arm, the hand of which stroked the top of his back while he groaned the pain away.

“I always thought I’d need a paddle,” Alfred thought out loud.   _Smack_.  “But this is pretty good, actually.” _Smack_.

“Lord knows you’re strong enough, ah -- sir.”

“‘Course I am.” Arthur could feel him smiling again, taking pleasure in the simple things like massaging the redness he had caused already -- and that pleasure was plain to see by the stiffness in Alfred’s pants, that pressed against him and throbbed every time his body reeled from another spank.  “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You did good, there,” Alfred shifted to unbutton his trousers and slide out of them as Arthur sat still, hands and ankles still bound.  “You know, I kind of expected you to cry or whatever.”

“Fuck you.” 

Any other time and Alfred might have reacted instantly, ready to raise hell and re-establish the status quo.  But perhaps it was because he was so secure with where he was, standing with an erection and his handprint in red on Arthur’s ass that he didn’t seem to care at all.

“Do you misbehave on purpose?” 

Arthur tried not to wince at that; yet another throwback.  He could not recall the number of times he had asked Alfred that when he was just a bright boy standing in a filthy living room.

“No, _sir_.”

“Well, it’s your loss.” Methodically he poured lube into his palm and rubbed it onto, and then into, his partner.  The red marks were ignored as his hands ran up and down, testing, feeling. “You’re gonna keep that cockring on until I’m done.”

“ _What_?”

“Bad bunnies don’t get to cum, ya idiot.”

“Letting you dom was a mistake,” And Alfred halted, like a hunting dog with his eyes on the prize but enough will to keep from jumping right in.  He had to wait to see if that sentence, with all its bitterness, would continue -- _damn_ , he was good.  But as absolutely frustrated as Arthur was, that was no justification for a safeword and he knew it.  

When seconds passed with no ceasefire ordered, Alfred fell to his knees and pulled Arthur into following suit, and Arthur did as he was told because he had signed up to submit (whether he liked it at that particular moment or not).  He could not help but shudder as the plug was tugged and finally, slowly, removed.  It ached the entire way out, but as it fell to the floor and his rabbit self was suddenly tailless Arthur realized that he somewhat missed it.  The chance to look at himself in the mirror, plug and all, had never been offered, but from the way Alfred had jumped him he couldn’t have looked _that_ bad.  

But then, it was out, and there was nothing left between them.

Alfred kissed the spot where his neck and shoulder joined, where he was still sore from his earlier restraints, and there was nothing in the world but the two of them.  When Alfred tested the waters and pressed only his cockhead inside him, that was enough; Arthur thought for a moment that he might actually _scream_ if they kept going as slow as they were.  Before he knew he wasn’t supposed to, he was rocking back against his partner.

“Can’t -- really fault you for that,” even Alfred, in all his strength, was caught breathless.  He only needed one hand to hold onto the swell of Arthur’s hipbone to hold him steady.

"Please," Arthur hung his head.  Never in a thousand years would Arthur strive to prove the cocky bastard right, but what choice did he have when Alfred responded to begging so well? If he kept it up, he might just get an orgasm.  

“ _Please_?” God, Arthur could practically feel Alfred’s arrogant dick getting harder at the prospect of being pleaded with by a former superpower.  Carefully, he had to remind himself that he was in no position to kick America’s arse; but he didn’t have to for long, because the both of them were growing more and more eager, and Alfred was showing it with his body.  Fuck being calm and in control -- fuck _control_.

Because without control it was heaven.  All earthly worries floated away and stayed away, and he could hardly remember just why there were rabbit ears, now hanging sideways, on his head.  There were only the noises, gross as they were in any other context, the feeling of being pulled in and filled and needed, _desperately_ or else Alfred wouldn’t be making those horrible, deep sounds -- and his hand was moving.

From its spot on Arthur’s hip, down to his cock.  Through the haze he might have even realized what was happening... If it wasn’t his cockring being removed, the only thing keeping him at and not over the precipice of orgasm.

' _A good dom doesn’t go back on his promises_ ', Arthur reminded himself to lecture him the moment they were finished -- but the pressure inside was suddenly, almost violently released in heady bursts that Alfred milked out of him.  Arthur's tongue lolled from the corner of his mouth as his mind fell into blank static; as he closed his eyes he registered Alfred shuddering and saying something to him.

Their connection was gone, and he was empty save for the streams of cum dripping out of him and pooling on the floor -- he fell.  Arthur's gaze only caught his plug, still fluffy though a little dirty, rolling away as Alfred fiddled with his handcuffs and picked him up.

All went quiet.

\--

“Must’ve been good, huh?” Alfred was no longer over him, looming with menace and glee in his eyes, but beside him.  The sensation of fingers tangled in his was noticed only as it ceased, and Arthur blinked the tiredness out of his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Am I cleared for gag use in the future? ‘Cuz you really need to be quiet sometimes.”

“Next time,” Arthur smiled into his pillow, still too exhausted to move.  With a small sensation of joy, he realized that there would indeed be a _next time._ “What ever happened to ‘bad bunnies don’t cum’?”

“Can’t help it, you make the cutest sounds.  Hey, when you get up, do you wanna go get a bite to eat?”

"Do you mean like a date?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“We’ve never been on a _date_ ,” Arthur laughed.

Alfred sat up to wipe his hands clean.  “Yeah, I know.  But it’s about time we did, don’t you think?”   


**Author's Note:**

> 'Saratoga' was the battle during the American Revolutionary War after which the British general surrendered. Basically spelled the end of the war for Britain.
> 
> For all none of you who were wondering! 8D
> 
> **EDIT: Saratoga was the great turning point of the American Revolutionary War in which General Burgoyne surrendered. It is not to be confused with Yorktown, which was the final surrender of the British army and led to the Treaty of Paris and thus all cessation of hostilities. I chose Saratoga because it was the first significant loss to the British and caused the French to join the war on the American side, which caused a massive 'OH SHIT' moment on the British side.


End file.
